Forbidden love
by Mislav
Summary: They both know that it isn't right . But still, they believe that they can, somehow, make it right . Together . Dexter/Debra .
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is Debster (Dexter/Debra) romance fic. Don't like it, don't read it. It takes place after season seven. There will be spoilers for finale of that season.**

**There are some adult themes right away, but rating M is mainly for later chapters (well, you need to wine and dine them first, right?). I think this will be pretty long, multi-chapter story.**

**Please forgive any minor grammar or spelling mistakes, English is not my native language. I tried to keep this grammatically correct, but You never know. **

**As you probably guessed, I don't owe any Dexter characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Read and enjoy :)**

She sat on old chair near by, tryng to catch some breath.

"Oh, fuck", she gasped. She briefly glared on LaGuerta's dead body, but she turned her head away almost immediately, tryng to hold back upcomimg tears.

"What... what will we do? I... if I confess... they will catch you... but if I don't... what if all this gets out control, if... Oh, fucking shit! What if I become like...", she didn't dare to finish that sentence.

He kneed next to her and gently put his hand on her right knee.

"Shhh", he whispered. "Just listen to me."

She did so.

"Look... You wanted to protect me. Your brother. There is nothing wrong with that. You are not the monster. You're the good person. You don't deserve to go to jail. Especially not because of me. And it won't get out of control, I assure you. You... you are not me."

She stopped crying and looked at him with her beautifully deep, tearfilled eyes.

"Look... Now... You will drive home. You will put this clothes in trash bags, and go to sleep. And you will take some sleep. You need a rest. I owe you. I will take care of... this. OK?"

She was still looking at him for some time in silence, like she is having second thoughts, but then, she nodded, and walked away.

Dexter waited till he heard her car pulling away. Then, he got on work.

He removed all protective plastic from the room. Then he tooked protective plastic off Hector and got him dressed. He ran to trunk of his car and put plastic in one of trash bags inside, which he planned to use for storing Hector's dismembered remains. He leaned his body against the wall opoosite to LaGuearta's body, then lifted her up, posing like she was standing too. Blood was already dry, so there was no danger of disturbing blood splatters. He took LaGuerta's gun, puted it in her right hand, knowing that she is right handed, and shoot him twice in chest, each time exactly in stabbing wound, to make it seem that they killed each other. He fell on the floor, bleeding. He tooked gun Debra used to shoot LaGuerta, tooked one rare piece of protective plastic which wasn't bloody, and used it to wipe off gun. He was wiping it for full five minutes, making sure that no fingerprints or DNA will remain on it. He tooked rest of the bullets from gun, and pressed Hector's right thumb and index finger on every bullet and shell casing (he knew that Hector is right handed too). He would do that for quite a while, making sure that hus fingerprints will remain on those idoms. He puted bullets back in gun and shell casing back in it's exact position, then he planted gun in Hector's right hand. He found another clean piece of protective plastic and rubbed it against the top of the gun, transporting gunshot residue on it, and then he rubber it over Hector's right hand, transporting gunshot residue on it. He hoped in his car and quickly drove off.

_She is safe. My sister is safe. _Those were his thoughts while driving back home.

**One month later**

He parked his car on parking lot in front of strip club just twenty miles away from his home, and tooked a deep breath, tryng to stay calm and concentrated.

Everything was prepared, as always. Plastic trash bag was on pasenger seat. Inside, there were ten other plastic trash bags, three pairs of latex gloves, scuba knife, stun gun and lots of protective plastic. Some of that plastic was olready used to cover the interior of trunk of his car. Chainsaw was lyng om back seat of his car, covered with brown blanket.

Greg Heffernan, thirty one years old. That night on 1st June 2011, entered the store in which his cousin, seventeen years old Marcey Smith, was working. Nobody else was there. He forced her on knife point to give him money from sef and cash box. He undressed her, binded her wrists and gaged her with gym towels, raped her with condom to avoid leaving DNA, slashed her throat, turned off smoke alarm, burned her clothing, condom and it's wrapper in sink in toilet, and fleed. There were only three pieces of evidence linking him to a crime, but still, more than enough to convince Dexter that guy is guilty as hell. First one was photograph taken by high-speed camera. It showed him driving his car only two miles away from scene of a murder, on night of a murder and in approximate time of a murder. That evidence lead to his arrest. Second evidence were sneakers found in his possession. They were washed in bleach, but they matched-by size, brand and thread marks-to unidentifeid latent shoe prints found on crime scene. Third evidence were black leather gloves found in his closet: they matched to size of his fists, and they also matched to partial glove print found on crime scene. No other evidences survived: they were also washed in bleach, like some of his clothes. Fourth piece of evidence was money found hidden in air vane in his bedroom. Lots of of usable fingerprints were found on bills. One typ belonged to Greg, second one to Marcey. All others were linked to customers, who all had alibies for time of her murder. However, when he was put on trial, he claimed he was driving to visit his friend, who lived five mile away from crime scene. Friend was drunk that night and couldn't confirm that. His car had no GPS. All other evidences couldn't be used in court, because police selected them without warrant. There were signs that towels used to bind her and gage her with towels stolen from gym he attended, but that wasn't strong evidence and analysis of DNA traces found om towels prooved inconclusive. He was released. Eight months after, on 25th February 2012, thirty-two year old Maggie Davies was abducted. She was found in forest two days later. Her body was burned, inside her burned car. One licence plate was recovered; car was registered on her. She was naked. Her wrists and mouths were taped with black duct tape. She was killed by (most likely limiture) strangulation. Injury on back of her skull pointed out that she was non-fataly bludgeoned, possibly in order to knock her unconsciousness. Her body was lying on back seat. She worked in bacery opened only five months prior to her dead. Bacery was opened half mile away from Greg's apartment. Greg started visiting bacery regulary almost immediately after it was opened. Most of the evidences were burned, but some silavia survived on remains of her burned T-shirt. DNA analysis linked it with Greg. He claimed he visited bacery the day she dissapeared and sneezed, transporting silavia on her T-shirt. He alouded polive to search his apartment. They found duct tape which looked simmilair to that found on her body, but exact match was impossible to determe due to damage made by fire. Shape of crowbar found in his apartment looked simmilair to injury on back of her head, but there was no usable fingerprints on it and it was cleaned in acid so there was no usable DNA evidence. Again, he was never charged with murder.

He was stalking him for two months now. He knows he will leave this strip club at 1:30 am, in five minutes. He also noticed hr started stalking his neighbour, 22 year old Judith Miller. He probably plus to rape and murder her too. Then he will put on gloves, sneak up to him, taser him, and drag him in trunk of his car. He will drive him to abonded house twenty miles away, which he olready choose. He will cover up whole place in plastic, undress him, put him on big old pool table he found there, wrap him in plastic, put framed photographs of his victims on small cupboard near the pool table, wait for him to wake up, took sample of his blood, give him lecture about his undoings, and kill him. He will took a chain saw, dismember his body, put his remains and protective plastic in trash bags, wrap "tools" in blanket seal bags with duct tape, drove him to his boath, park his car there, dump bags in his boath, hop in it, drive ten-twenty miles away, dump bags there, take of his gloves and dump them there too. Then he will drive back home, put his blood sample in his secret box, clean up chainsaw and knife, put them back in his weapon conection, wash blanket in beach, put it back in his car, took a shower, and go to sleep.

Then, why does he feel so... down? Nervous? It happens very rare that other emotions-in this case, some strange... discomfort, sadness, frustration-suppress his thirst for kill, but now, for some reason, they did. Not enough to keep him from doing that, of course, but enough that this whole murder scheme isn't the first thing on his mind right now.

Why is that so? What is wrong with him, or, better to say, what is different with him? And why?

It actually makes sense. Lots of things happened lately. Again, he was almost caught. And anniversary of Rita's death is close. No wonder that he feels this way.

He was thinking about that for last couple of months... but he was never brave enough to admit that. But now, he is slowly facing the truth. And truth is this: he needs someone in his life. Somebody who will understand him, care for him... Help him with geting through all this shit. But he really doesn't likes to get through all that process of making friend or, even worse, romantic relationship. He could easily do that, being manipulative and intelligent as usual sociopath, but he simply dislikes it. That's one reason. Another reason is... well, he probably lost faith in most of the people and he really doesn't want to try something serious like that with someone and then end up feeling cheated or dissapointed. Lately, he barely trusts people he knows; there is no way to start something like that with person he doesn't know prior to the begining of that... whatever it is. And he barely managed to feel affection towards them, after all these years: chances to actually bonus with someone are pretty slim.

Well, there is always Debra, right?

Morning after LaGuerta's murder, he drove to Debra's home. He had backpack with lighter, old bucket, latex gloves, spunge, bottle of bleach, big clean towel and new clothes and shoes. He tooked trash bag with bloody clothes. He washed traces of blood in her car using bleach and sponge. Then he burned clothes and bag in back yard, in old bucket in which he kept micxture of bleach and water, after it and spunge got dry. He flushed ashes down the toilet, and dumped the gloves and bucket in dumpster near her house. He tooked his clothes and shoes off in her bathroom (because it had traces of dirt and smoke on it), wrapped it in towel, puted it in his backpack, puted on new clothes and shoes, and puted backpack in trunk of his. Then they drove to work, each in their own car, and got on work in silence. Soonly, it became obvious that LaGuerta is gone. Searched was organized immediately. After four hours, bodies were found.

That night, upon returning home, he washed backpack, towel, clothes and gloves in bleach. Investigation lasted for barely three days. It was concluded that they shoot each other.

Since LaGuerta's murder, they started hanging out much more than usual, but they barely even talked about event which brought them closer to each other. Who knows why. But still, at this moment, she is the closest to him on almost every level human being can be close with another human being or, in this case, someone like him... She even killed someone because of him, and still, she doesn't hate him, she doesn't see him as monster. But, if that is so, why isn't he satisfeid? Maybe he grew so close to her that he cane to a point when he wants... more? But what more than that which they have right now could he want from his sister?

He got so carried away in his thoughts that he noticed Greg only when he was olready out of strip club, half way towards his car.

_Shit._

Kinda panicking, he quickly took gloves and put them over his hands. He already had quite a practice in putting on white latex gloves over his hands, but now, it turned out to be quite clumsy. He planned to put two gloves over each hand, but he needed to satisfei himself with only one. Then he tooked stun gun and run out of car, leaving doors opened. Greg was just planning to unlock his car when Dexter stoped behind him. He quickly looked around and, before Greg could do a thing, he electrocuted him with stun gun, knocking him unconsciousness. He quickly hid stun gun in right pocket of his pants, dragged Greg's body to trunk of his car, openes it, stuffed his body inside, looked around once more, closed the trunk doors, tooked key from left pocket of his pants, locked the trunk doors, hoped on drivers seat, closed the doors behind, put on seat belt, turned on the car with key, and quickly drove off. His heart was beating and sweat was rolling down his heating face. His eyes were widened and he kept them concentrated on the road in front of him, in order to calm himself down.

#

He was already feeling little calmer when he arrived to that abonded house. As always, he immediately started working. In little more than fifteen minutes, whole place was covered with plastic, Greg, still unonsciousness, was lyng on the pool table, naked, wrapped in plastic, framed photographs of victims were on small cupboard near the pool table, and, on that same cupboard, there were scuba knife and two small pieces of macroscope glass. Chain saw was on the floor, behind it. And know, he was siting on chair near by, his eyes entirely focused on Greg, waiting for him to wake up.

Finaly, Greg started regaining consiciousness. Dexter grabbed knife and one macroscope glass and walked towards him. He cuted his right cheek with the knife and leted one single drip of his blood to drip on it.

"What the fuck?!", Greg screamed in fear and pain.

Dexter calmly walked towards cuoboard, puted knife and glass on it, and pressed another glass over first one, widening the blood splatter. Then he tooked the knife and started walking closer to Greg again.

"Quite a feeling, isn't it?", Dexter asked him. "That's probably how Marcey Smith and Maggie Davies felt."

"I didn't kill those bitches, OK?"

"But you did, Greg. We both know you did. Only you weren't convicted. And do you want to hear the irony? They will never convict me for your murder either."

"Why are you doing this?", Greg screamesd in fear and rage, tryng to release from his bounds.

"Because of the same reason you did all those terrible things", Dexter said. "Because I like it-he explained and stabbed him in the heart."

#

It was 3 am when he finaly returned home. Pretty tired, he puted his tools in tool conection carefully hidden in his room, wrapped in blanket. He decided to wash it tomorrow.

He tooked Coca Cola can from fridge, sat on couch in living room, opened the can and took the sip.

Hector was gone. For a month now. His mother can rest in peace. He can live in, well, sort-of peace now... And he commited one other murder, first in a month, perfectly like others. He is back on the track. But he feels, he is afraid to admit it, but he feels, he knows that he needs one more thing to be completly happy. Unfortunately, he will never have her, he can't, he mustn't, he...

"Dexter?"

He turned around and saw Debra standing near couch, barefoot, wearing yelow T-shirt and white shorts.

"What are you doing here?", he asked.

"I told you that I will live here for a week or two", she reminded him. "Deratization of my ouse, rember?"

"I... I know... I mean... What are you doing up? It's pass three am."

"I can't fall sleep", she said and sat on couch next to him. "You just got there, right?

"Yes", he noded and tooked another sip of Coca Cola.

"Another one of your "projects"?"

He just signed.

They were siting there in silence for few minutes.

"Thank you-she suddenly said. "For... helping me out. With... all that "LaGuerta" mess."

He glared at her.

"You don't need to thank me", he said. "I needed to do that, after what you done for me."

"Don't feel bad about it. It was hard for me at first, but I realized that is just the way it needed to be."

She pressed her soft lips against his right cheek. Kiss sent shivers down his skin. He softly moaned in pleasure, but he hoped she didn't notice.

"I don't say this very often... but I'm lucky to have you."

"You stole the word out my mouth", he whispered, silently, but not silent enough for her not to hear him.

She gently slid her hand through his hair.

"I'll try to get some sleep now", she said. "Good night", she said, stood up and walked back in her bedroom.

"Good night", he said too, with strange, sudden shivers in his voice.

He dumped now empty Coca Cola can in trash can, took a quick shower, walked in his bedroom and lay in his bed, despite he knew that there is little chance he will be able to fall asleep after this...


	2. Chapter 2

_Dexter suddenly found himself in his kitchen, siting at the kitchen table. Harry was also siting at the kitchen table, opposite to him._

_"Dad?", Dexter asked._

_"That's me", Harry nodded._

_"Why... why are you here?"_

_"I believe you already know that, son."_

_Dexter tooked a deep breath and bend his head._

_"Dad... I'm... I'm sorry. I truly am. I don't know how... I will do everything I can to stop that, to forget..."_

_"No. You can't do that. It's simply... impossible. You probably think it is impossible to compare those two things, even in your case, but love is really like your dark passenger, your urge to kill. You can't defead it."_

_"Dad... I... I don't love her. That's not even close to seriousness of real love, this what I feel towards her isn't even close to..."_

_"Not yet. But we both know that it will become that. Sooner or later. Because you may not love her in real sense of word yet, but you are closer to that than you think. You crossed the line, somewhere, somehow, inside yourself you did when you wete close to her in such confusing and stressful time, when she was the only ome close enough to you and other way around. You didn't even know that you did till you did, but you did, and now, there is no going back."_

_"But, if I couldn't prevent it and didn't even know how it happened, and it makes me feel good, and nobody gets hurt, in sense of geting killed and that, then... then there is nothing wrong with that... right?"_

_Harry remained silent._

_"Dad? Dad?"_

Before he could get his answer, Dexter woke up in sweat, followed by sound of his alarm clock.. He caught a quick glimpse off it. Six am. Frustrated, he turned alarm clock off.

Is this dream true? He means, that about love and that. Dreams are product of his subconscience, after all.

He knew he should made serious thoughts about that, but he decided not to do that for some time. He knows that is cowardly and weak way used to escape serious problem, but right now it is six am and he didn't fall asleep till four am so why not?

He puted bloody blanket on wash in bleach and tooked a quick shower. He got dressed and walked into kitchen. Debra was olready there, dressed in her casual work clothes. She was siting at kitchen table, eating breakfast-scrambled eggs, toast, coffee-and reading newspapers. On other side of the table, there was also the plate with scrambled eggs and bacon on it, smaller plate with toast on it and blue coffee mug filled with coffee. He was so surprised that he was staring at the table till she raised her head and looked at him. She smiled, obviously amused by his confusion.

"Good morning, Dex", she said, tryng not to laugh.

He finaly moved his eyes away from the table and looked at her.

"Good morning", he nodded. He sat down and tooked a sip of coffee.

"I woke up earlier", she explained. "So I decided to do something useful."

He nodded and started eating.

"Is it good?", she asked. He nodded, still too tired to continue conversation. She smiled and continued reading while eating her breakfast.

"Did you have a good sleep?", she asked, without moving her eyes from newspapers.

Dexter stopped eating when he felt cold chill hiting his body.

"Oh... you know... as usual", he said and continued eating.

After breakfast, he briedfly read the newspapers and brushed his teeth. Soonly after, blanket washing was over. He didn't have time to put it in the drier, so he simply puted it in empty laundry basket and left it there. He pressuned that it will get dry till time when he comes home from work. Debra sat in her car, he in his, and they started driving, heading for their workplace.

#

He quickly sat at his desk in his office and got on work, tryng to keep his mind off that dream and... whole this situation. Luckily for him, he really had lots of work to do.

However, that work was soonly interupted, when Debra walked towards his table to inform him about new case.

"Dex, I... we need you. Elm street 54. Double murder."

He immediately headed there. He arrived there after less than half an hour.

Crime scene was two-store suburban house, with big yard and white fasade. Murder occured inside. He walked in, wearing white latex gloves and white plastic shoe covers, holding his metal forensic briefcase in his hand.

Debra and Batista were already there, also wearing gloves and shoe covers. They lead him upstairs.

"Victims are twenty-five year old Lucy Fowler and twenty-five year old Gina Benes", Debra explained. "Some fuckhead came in through back doors. It was easy: sliding doors, no lock, no alarm. Cuted the phone lines, maybe with same weapon used to kill them, and sneaked upstairs. He turned on Lucy first. She was asleep. He stabbe her in the right eye. She woke up, started screaming. He stabbed her in the throat, twice, and once in heart. Gina woke up, screamed, grabbed the phone and tried to call police. Nothing. He jumped on her, pinned her on the floor and slit her throat. He punched her in the face, then stabbed her three times in the... reproductive organ. She bleed out. There are no signs that anything was stolen. No murder weapon left on scene."

First victim was still lying on the bed, partialy covered with white, blood stained bed sheet. She was Caucasian, about 5'8, average weight, with long blonde hair and blonde eyes. Second one was about 5'10, average weight, with long curly black hair and black eyes. Both were completely naked.

"They are both naked...", Dexter noticed. "One bra under the bed... panties on the pillow...

"They were girlfriends", Debra said. "We olready know that. Neighbours told us. They lived together for six months."

"They heard screams at about seven thirty am and called 911", Batista said. "One of them saw man runing away from the crime scene, but he can't provide detail description."

Dexter started studyng bodies and crime scenes, slowly, carefully. As always, blood quickly caught his attention and send shivers down his skin, while he was looking at it's strong red color over white walls, when he felt it's smell. While he was studyng crimes scene, bodies, and especially blood.

"He killed her first", he said, gesturing towards body, "but she was an actual target", he said and walked closer towards Gina's body.

"So, second girl killed was an actual target?", Debra comments.-What the fuck?

"You can see because there are much more stabbing wounds and those on Gina's body are obviously more severe. Also, Lucy's body is partialy covered. That is sign of remorse. Gina's body is left in plain sight. Sign of remorse also points out that this is his first murder. And you can forget all theories about homophobia, burgulary gome wrong and other random acts of violence. Motive for this crime was definitely personal. Did you checked knives in the house?"

"Yes", Batista said. "There are no signs that any of knives are missing and there are no traces of blood on any of them."

Dexter kneed next to Gina's body, looking at partial shoe print in the blood.

"It looks like partial shoe print", he said, "but there is no thread pattern. This was premmeditated", he concluded. "He brought murder weapon with him, used tool he prepared to cut the phone lines, wore shoe covers to avoid leaving shoe prints and to avoid transporting blood on his shoes. He also wore gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints and palm prints and to avoid geting blood on his hands. You can see because there is bloody palm print on bed frame, but there is no papilar lines. This is actually bloody glove print. He's smart."

He photographed and measured blood splatters on wall and bed frame.

"By position of that partial shoe print, I would say he was down on his knees while stabbing Gina. And there is other simmilair partial shoe print without thread pattern, on the wall, which mean that part his legs under his knee eria is about fifteen feet long. So, judging by that and blood splatters on the wall, he is between 5'10 and 6'1 tall. Most of the stabbing wounds are on right side of her body and bloody glove print is on right side of bed frame, so he is probably right handed."

He tooked samples of blood found on crime scene and stored them. After some more brief examination, he got back on his workplace.

#

At about 4 pm, his work was finaly over, and so was Debra's. It was pretty hard, perhaps even stressful day for him. Sure, that double murder was pretty brutal, but it left him more work than he ever imagined. And he really hopes that guy won't kill again, because he really doesn't want to bother with another serial killer right now.

While he was preparing to leave, she stood near his desk and signed. He glared at her.

"Though day, huh?", he asked her. Only after he did, he started asking himself why he did that? Did he really cared? Or he just followed social protocol, which he was doing and faking so much for such long period of time that it almost became automatic, like reflex, for him? Strangely, he discovered that real reason for that act is actually irrelevant for him.

"I interogated over thirty people in neighborhood and ten sex offenders in closer eria around the crime scene, tryng to found anything that may be usefull for investigation. And so far, nothing. Fuck."

He didn't know why, but he felt it would be good, since they both found themselves in simmilair situation, to make something about it, together, something that will make them feel better.

"Maybe we could... take a walk?", he suggested.

She glared at him, obvously surprised.

"Really?", she asked.

"Yes. That can be...pleasant. Relaxing."

She was still looking at him in surprise, probably stunned by the fact that he wants to do such... human-like thing with him, but after few seconds, probably fighting that she has nothing to loose, so she simply nodded and said "OK".

#

They were walking down the street, close to the sea. Warm wind was slowly blowing through the air, causing shivers to spread through it from time to time.

"So... how is Harrison doing?", she asked.

"Pretty good. He wasn't sick lately. He enjoys playing outside. I always look after him, of course. I think... I think he will grow up in great person."

"I'm glad to hear that", she chuckled, then sighed. "You probably won't believe this, but... I always knew you will be the great father."

"Really?"

"Of course. And also great husband, boyfriend, friend... and great brother, like you are. Because, despite to your condition, you are able to feel something towards other persons-rare, carefully choosed persons-and when you do, you are the best at it."

He was surprised. Plesantly surprised, but still surprised. Maybe even positively shocked. She would almost never show that she likes something about him, or talk with him without at lest two swear words in every sentence. Is this just isolated incident? Or something new and permanent? He secretly hopes for second solution.

After some time, they stopped in front of the black metal hedge. They were just standing there, looking at the sea and wawes, while Miami sun was lightining the sea surface and their faces.

After short silence, she said:

"You know, this is... surprisingly good. It really helps... with stress and all. I... I never felt that way before, although I was here plenty of times, alone or with someone, when I had problems and when I had no problems, doing this plenty of times; walking slowly, talking about both important and non-important things... Strange."

"Maybe now you feel that way... because you're with me here?", he whispered, like he was afraid that she will hear him. She did, however, and glared at him. His eyes staid focused on the sea, he felt he may went too far too soon and he tried to avoid making eye contact with her.

"That's probably it", she said, in unusualy soft tome of voice, almost in whisper. Although he still didn't dare to look at her, he managed to catch a quick glimpse of her face, and he was almost sure that her lips formed a small smile when she said that. She gently touched his right hand. He felt warm, pleasant shivers going through his body. He dared to slowly move his head towards hers and make eye contact with her.

"Thank you", she said. Now, there was no doubt; she was smiling when she said that.

He nodded. It tooked him few seconds to make courige to say something.

"You're welcome", he said, tryng to be strong, to keep eye contact with her. "We... we should do this more often."

She nodded and smiled.

"Sure-she whispered, softly. "It's a deal."

Then they walked back to parking lot in front of the police station, together.

#

Meanwhile, young man was standing in his house, burning big paper grocery bag filled with bloody black shirt, bloody black pants, bloody pair of yellow rubber gloves and bloody pair of white plastic shoe covers. Bloody knife was already lying on the bottom of the ocean. He smirked as he watched evidences of his cruel deed dissapearing. He knew that nobody will link him with it, and that next time will be as perfect as first time.


	3. Chapter 3

** A/N: I promise that I'll make Dexter more Dexter-like in future chapters.**

Week passed.

There was no usable leads in that double murder case. There was no forensic evidences on crime scene. Police also interrogated Lucy's ex-girlfriend, but she had an alibi. There was no signs that killer will strike again.

Debra continued living with Dexter, because deratization of her home somehow turned out to be much more complicated than it seemed. They continued living their lives and doing their jobs like before.

However, something was different since then. When they would finish their work at the same time, or when they would met at home after work, they would talk, usually twenty-thirty minutes, about usual stuff: their work, their plans, etc. She felt like everything will be OK and that she will always have somebody who could understand her, help her, be there for her; someone to lean on.

When she first realized that, she shivered. It felt wrong; she felt she needs to feel that toward person with whom she'll spend rest of her life, have children and all that stuff. Not toward her brother.

She concluded that's probably because she has no boyfriend right now, she just recovered from all that stress following LaGuerta's murder, and because everything... changed so fast. She believed it will pass over time, that it is nothing serious.

Dexter pretty much felt the same, only he didn't think a lot about it; he didn't want to. He didn't know what to think, actually: all that things with emotions and feelings were pretty new for him. He simply let the matter drop and let things to progress on it's own.

That day, exactly week after, also started like any other. They arrived at work. She went in her office, he in his. He started working on one of the older, still unsolved cases, in hope to found some new evidence, when Debra informed him about new case, just ten miles away.

They both arrived there quickly. Victim was found killed in her car, black SUV, parked on parking in front of her workplace, local grocery store. She was Caucasian woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing usual working clothes. There was blood everywhere.

"Victim is Alysha Brando, twenty-one", Debra was explaining while Dexter was puting on gloves and shoe covers, preparing himself for his work. "Grocery store was opened at seven am. Few employees who were there already heard her screams, they ran outside and saw masked man stabbing her. When he saw them, he ran away."

"Over twenty stabbing wounds", Dexter concluded. "In face, chest and genitals. Sharp knife. Stabbing wounds were deep, by marks around some wounds it seems knife was struck all the way to the handle."

"She was attending local college, studying literature", Batista said. "Her parents live almost fifty miles away. She lived in rented apartment only five miles away, with roomate, Kimberly Parr, also literature student. She was working there to pay college education."

"I would say that killer is right handed", Dexter concluded while marking and photographing blood splatters. "Most of the stabbing wounds are on right side of her body. Doors are opened... there is cuting mark on driver side doors, from outside, and few small pieces of black paint on her clothes and inside her wounds. He ran to her car and opened driver side doors, accidently cuting them and transporting black paint on it's blade, and stabbed her. He surprised her. It was blitz attack. I don't think she knew him. At least not good enough to open him doors or to let him in the car."

"Witnesses described killer as "likely male, between 5'9 and 5'11 tall, average weight, strong, dressed in black clothing with partially transparent, blurry plastic mask over face"", Debra said. "They are pretty sure that he wore white latex gloves and white plastic shoe covers over shoe bottoms during murder. They couldn't provide detail description of a knife, they only remember that it had long blade and dark handle."

"Bloody glove print on car window confirms that he was wearing gloves", Dexter said while swabbing traces of blood. "There are no blood splatters leaving away from crime scene. He probably hid knife somewhere."

"If he did, witnesses didn't notice that", Batista said. "Store has security cameras, but not outside."

Dexter then left, leaving other forensics and police officers to do their work.

#

Debra knocked on the door of Kimberly's apartment. Soonly, she opened. She was Caucasian woman, in early 20's, about 5'5 tall, average weight, with long brown hair and brown eyes. She was still in her white pajamas, redish around her nose and eyes. She looked kinda sick.

"Hello...", Kimberly said, obviously confused. "Uhm... who are you? What do you need?"

"I'm Debra Morgan from Miami police department", Debra said while showing her badge. "I need to speak with you... it's about Alysha."

Kimberly remained silent, obviously very surprised.

"Can I come in?", Debra asked.

"Oh... sure", Kimberly nodded, alouding Debra to come in. Then she closed the doors behind.

"Is... is she in trouble?"

Debra took a deep breath.

"Ms. Parr... I'm s sorry to tell you this... but Ashley is dead. Murdered."

Kimberly glared at her, in shock and disbelief.

"What?", she asked. "No... this needs to be some sort of mistake..."

Debra took Ashley's photograph from right pocket of her pants and showed it to Kimberly.

"Is that her?", she asked.

Kimberly's eyes filled with tears. She tried to say something, but she only managed to let out the gasp and then she ran in kitchen, trying to avoid eye contact with Debra. Debra followed her there. Kimberly sat at kitchen table, trying to calm herself down, breathing heavily. Debra sat at kitchen table, opposite to her.

"I know this is hard for you", Debra said compasionately, "but I need you to answer some questions."

Kimberly nodded. Debra waited for few seconds, then she started:

"Did Ashley had any enemies? Did she seem scared or out of ordinary lately?"

"No. I only know that she broke up with her boyfriend... Neil Wilson... I don't know where he lives... but nothing more than that."

"Where were you today at about seven am?"

"I was here, alone. I'm sick."

Kimberly tooked a deep breath, trying to hold back upcoming tears.

"I... I loved her, you know. Not asa friend, I mean, not only as a friend, but also..."

Debra nodded, realizing what Kimberly is trying to say.

"I... I planned to tell her... and now she is gone."

Then Kimberly raised her head and looked at Debra.

"Did that ever happen to you? Did you love someone, but kost that person because you missed your chance?"

"I don't think it did", Debra said. "But I know I won't let that happen."

#

It was pass five pm when Debra returned at Dexter's place. Dexter was already there, siting on couch in living room, playing with Harrison.

"Hi", he said when he noticed her.

"Hi", she said. She staid standing there for few more seconds before walking in kitchen.

Dexter realized something is wrong. He presumed it is nothing serious, that she is probably just tired or something, but for some reason that kept bothering him, so he found something that will keep Harrison busy for a while and walked in kitchen. Debra was siting at kitchen table, drinking.

"Uhm... you OK?", he asked, having no better opening line.

"Sure", she said without even looking at him, before taking another sip of beer. "Never better."

He just glared at her, realizing that she is lying. Although she was still avoiding eye contact, she noticed that, and decided to tell it just to get over it.

"Ashley's roomate... was in love with her. She planned to tell her, but before she could...", she stopped and looked through kitchen window, still avoiding making eye contact with Dexter.

"This... this is stupid... I shouldn't be upset because of that. Just, I guess, lately...", she glared back down, at the table. "Nothing."

"I'm sure that won't happen to you", he said. And thing that almost shocked him was that he, apparently, didn't only believe in what he said, but he also said with true intent to comfort her.

Emotions, feelings, those were still big mysteries for him, but he was pretty sure that, till now, he felt that way toward one person in his life.

#

Patrick sat back on couch in his living room and turned on the TV.

He could still hear washing machine in the bathroom. His bloody clothes was on wash, in bleach. His knife was already cleaned up, hidden in air vane in his room. Bloody gloves, shoe covers and mask were on bottom of the ocean by now.

He barely managed to escape. That was risky, way more risky than first time. But now, it feels good. Even better than feeling he felt while he was stabbing her mercilessly while she was cowardly crying for help and screaming in pain. It feels good because now he knows nothing can stop him. It's good to know that, because there are still plenty of names left on his list.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Since this story has nothing** **to do with real season eight, I guess this is sort of an AU story. And I really don't know who could replace LaGuerta, so I just put Quinn.**

**I am totaly aware that some of my paragraphs and sentences here are VERY long, but I really needed to explain some things. I also apoligize for not writing much of a Debster in this chapter and for taking me so long to update, there will be more Debster in next chapter and I hope will update next one sooner.**

Next day started out ordinary, like any other. Nothing that could point on upcoming big news. Dexter only saw Masuka talking about something with Quinn, and less than hour later they were all informed to be in meeting hall in next thirty minutes.

Hall was bucked up. Dozens of chairs, all sorts of police officers and forensics siting on them, studying case files and and preparing themselves for upcoming meeting. Still, nobody was on the stage, but table with laptop and projector on it was already there. Projector was linked with laptop and pointed on big movie screen pulled over the front wall. Debra was siting next to Dexter, reading Alysha Brando's case file. She seemed completely and only concentrated on that. Dexter was siting next to her. He already studied all those things more than once, so he had nothing better to do than just looking at her. It still amazed him how all that people he knows can be so disturbed and excited over something, while he just sees it as routine, part of the job and everyday life.

Suddenly, while looking at her face, he felt something. Great. Feelings again. And he actually knew what that feeling meant. He knew it, because he felt the same when he saw Rita the first time. Damn it. This should never happen. Of course, he never thought his sister is ugly or something, but he never considered her pretty in the way he considered Rita and other women. But now he felt she is. Her long brown hair falling down her shoulders, her brown eyes pointed on file...

He quickly looked away, but he knew that won't make that feeling go away.

That's his problem. He can barely feel anything, but when he does, it can't go away.

James Quinn walked in, wearing black tuxedo, black pants, black shoes and red tie. He walked up on the stage, in front of the table. It was obvious that he still didn't use to being a captain, but he was handling that quite well.

He turned on laptop and projector. Photographs of Lucy Fowler, Gina Benes and Alysha Brando (taken in time when they were still alive) appeared on movie screen. He started explaining the matters.

"As most of you probably know, one of our forensic experts, Vincent Masuka, managed to link the ring found on one victim, Alysha Brando, with another murder victim, Lucy Fowler, killed together with her girlfriend Gina Benes. Lucy's DNA was found on it and it matches to ring stolen from her and to imprint on her right ring finger. You also know that piece of rope was found in Lucy's backyard. Female DNA was recovered on it. No match in CODIS or in unsolved cases database, but it turned out to be simmilair to one male DNA profile in CODIS, belonging to thirty year old Don Bradley. Mr. Bradley has three siblings: two brothers, Mike and James, and one sister, Vanessa. Vanessa, twenty two years old at time of her death, was found death in her boath in the marina six months prior to Lucy's and Gina's murder." After that sentence, photograph of young girl lying on the floor in pool blood in the boath appeared on the movie screen. She wore white T-shirt, blue shorts and white sandals. "Vanessa had one stabbing wound on her throat and two much deeper stabbing wounds in her heart. She bleed to death. She also had two cuts on her left hand, slightly above her wrist, and one cut on her right palm: signs that she tried to protect herself by puting her hands in front of her face. There was no signs of force intury. There is possibility that she knew the killer. Few days before her murder, she gave ade in newspapers. She was planning to sell the boath. Maybe killer introduced himself as customer, so she let him in to look inside the boath. Complete shoe print was found inside her blood, near her body. It wasn't clear enough to identifei the brand, but, judging by the shape, it was probably some sort of working shoe. By it's length, size of that shoe was ten. Bloody knife was found in sink near the boy. DNA analysis prooved that blood belongs victim. Shape of blade matched to wound on her wrist. There was no usable fingerprints. No simmilair knives were found on the boath. Killer probably had it with him. There were signs of the struggle: broken cherry wood table, five feet away from the body. Two glasses full of whiskey found on table near the body, another sign that she knew her killer. Her DNA was recovered on one glass. She had some whiskey in her stomach and some alchohol in her blood. DNA testing of silavis recovered on other glass prooved inconclusive. There was no signs of sexual assault. Robbery didn't seem to be the motive either, but one thing was missing: one of the ropes. The same type of rope recovered on Miller/Benes crime scene. As you all probably know, 911 service started receiving text messages after Virginia Tech massacre. That's how they got the tip about Vanessa's murder. They received text message saying: "GIRL DEAD ON WHITE BOATH NUMBER 245 IN MARINA NEAR LA PASTA RESTAURANT. BE THERE." Unfortunately, it was sent from disposable cellphone."

He took a deep breath and looked toward his "audience".

"I think it is obvious, from evidences presented, that we are dealing with a serial killer, and that he will probably kill again soon. He also stole neckless from last victim's body", after he said that, photograph of Alysha with that neckless appeared on movie screen. " If we found it on someone killed, we'll know it is the work of the same killer. The only thing in common to all four murders, by now is the fact that all victim's are Caucasian woman in their 20's, killed by multiple stabbing wounds. First three victims were homosexual, but there are no signs that Alysha was, so that's another dead end. You know what I want you to do. Examine everything: medical records, phone records, bills, e-mails. Look for any possible link between those four victims. Mis. Morgan, what about Alysha Brando's ex-boyfriend, Neil Wilson?"

"We are still trying to track him down", Debra responded. "He lived in motel room. He checked out two days prior to Alysha's murder."

"OK, you do that. Dexter, you compare... crime scenes and blood splatters and that... what you do... you know?"

"OK", Dexter responded, nodding his head.

"All informations we have about murders so far are sent to FBI. We should get killer's psychological profile soon. I also heard that DNA analysis of hair found on Alysha Brando's clothes and skin found under her fingernails still isn't over, so I am asking you to hurry up with it if possible. Tomorrow we will arrange press conference regarding this matter. That is all for now."

He left the room, closing the doors behind. They all started going back at their work.

#

Patrick was puting Coca Cola bottles in the fridge in local supermarket.

Man, he hated that job. He hated everything about it: uniform, tasks, boring customers, stupid boss... but he knows that he needs it. He can't go back to his old job. He just... can't. Too many memories.

#

Dexter was siting at his table. He had three crime scene photos on it: Vanessa's murder, Lucy/Gina murder, and Alysha's murder. He couldn't help but feel that Vanessa's murder somehow doesn't fit. He couldn't tell what, why, or how he knew it. Everything looked the same, but didn't feel the same. The first murder was... different. It was probably something that only people like him can feel.

But he knew, without a doubt, that he will try to track down that bastard before police does and kill him. He couldn't be sure that he will be able to do that, however. This guy was good. He killed four times, during day time, last time on public place, and he still didn't get caught. Not to mention that he left very little clues and that he was killing for over six months now.

But Vanessa's murder... it's special somehow... not like the others... if he could only explain...

He looked at his watch. His shift was over. He decided to study files more detaly later, at home. He packed his things and headed toward the enterance.

#

Dexter was siting on the floor in living room, playing with Harrisson. Debra was siting on couch near by.

"I can't fucking believe it", she commented. "Every year, some damn serial killer starts fucking killing people here."

Even Dexter found it inappropriate to talk about serial murders in front of the child, especialy with language Debra used, but he decided to start the conversation.

"You can consider yourself lucky that's only one every year", he said.

"Well, that's comforting", she scoffed, sarcasticly. "I don't feel safe here anymore."

"You are safe with me", Dexter said. Debra stopped talking, apparently surprised by that statement.

"I mean, it's always safer when there are more people", Dexter quickly tried to explain. "So, you and me... it's safer. But you know that I won't let anyone hurt you, because you are my sister and... "

Debra chuckled.

"What?", Dexter asked.

"You are kinda cute when you get confused", she said."Or just funny. I'll go with the later. It sounds less weird."

Dexter said nothing in return, but he felt Debra said more than she intended to.


	5. Chapter 5

Next day at work was really hard and stressfull. All interogation rooms were buckeđ up. Detectives were interogating everybody connected with victims: friends, families, co-workers, boyfriends, girlfriends, ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends, mailmans, delivery boys...

Press conference was held that day at one pm, outside, in front of the police station. Although Quinn was in charge, Debra, and other detectives were also present. It lasted for over forty minutes before they returned inside.

"Those people are fucking monsters", Debra commented while waking near Dexter's table. "What shit are they asking... what victim's sexual orentation has to do with fucking murders? Can't we just send them fucking e-mail or something?"

"That would be the perfect world", Dexter commented before going back to his work.

#

That night, some time pass eight pm, after having dinner, Dexter and Debra were sitting on the couch in living room, watching TV. Harrison was sitting on the floonesrar by, playing with his toys.

They were both pretty tired, but Debra was more exhausted. Dexter was mostly trying to found any other possible link between victims or evidence that could lead him to the killer, but came up with nothing. He had only one field work: murder that obviously wasn't connected with serial killer case.

"Maybe we could... you know... go to see the movie or something?", Debra suddenly suggested.

Dexter shivered and glared at her in surprise, but, to his own surprise, he realized that that idea seems strangely... appealing, interesting, in his opinion.

He decided to engage in discussion about that topic, but in a way that fact that he is interested in doing it isn't obvious right away.

"Aren't you tired?", he asked.

"Kinda, but it's really boring to be here all the time. And it's really not something too exhausting. There is movie theater just few miles away from ou.. your home."

"What about Harrison?".

"Can't you call the babysitter?", Debra asked.

"I guess I could... I sometimes called her in some... uncomfortable times of day or night when I had no other choice... she always did the job. But I don't think we can say that we would like her to babysit Harrison because we are going to see the movie."

"Why?"

Dexter swallowed hard before answering.

"Well... you know... it would probably seem... rude. Like, not reason serious enough for draging her put the bed to babysit him. Also... brother and sister... going to see the movie together... it would seem like.."

He stopped, realizing that he went too far.

"Like what?", Debra asked.

"You know... like we have no social life", he said, secretly sighing in relief.

"Then make up something", Debra suggested. "I'm sick and tired from this fucking boring routine."

"OK", Dexter agreed, giving up. "What movie would you like to watch?"

"Let me see", she said, took todays newspapers from coffee table, opened them on page with movie schedules and started reading. ""Last days of sunshine", romance comedy... fuck no. "Red night", horror movie... I think we are getting enough of the blood at work. And after work", she commented, glancing on Dexter, who remained silent. Some children's movie... Oh, this could be good! "New life", drama/comedy film. In movie theater just five miles away from your home. Tonight at 9 pm. We have about forty minutes to get ready."

"It sounds good", Dexter agreed. "Realistic but not too depressing. I guess little bit of action and blood could make it even better..."

Debra glared at him.

"Anyway, it's good", Dexter said. "Go in garage, sit in the car. Key is in bowl on kitchen table. I'll call babysitter and take care of this."

"OK", Debra smiled, took car key and went in her room. "Just to put on something more comfortable."

Dexter shivered on those last words, but said nothing.

Twenty minutes later, Dexter hopped in the car, sat on the drivers seat, while Debra was already sitting on pasenger seat, wearing white T-shirt, red shorts and brown sandals. Dexter put on seat belt and drove off.

#

Patrick was lying in his bed, unable to sleep.

It is less than nine pm, but he had no energy to continue doing anything for rest of the day. Or night. He is feeling like that for months, since... that incident.

He glared on drawer next to his bed. He shivered when he remind himself what is inside. Necklace belonging to woman he killed. There is still blood on him. He can almost smell it. He is constantly afraid that someone will found it somehow. Luckily, it won't be at his possession for long.

#

It was 8:50 pm when Dexter parked his car on parking lot in fromt of the movie theater. They walked in theater through front doors and walked toward the first counter.

"How can I help you?", clerk standing behind the counter asked politely.

"We would like to buy two tickets for "New life", Debra said.

"OK", clerk nodded. "Let me check... We have two tickets avalible, but in the last row, cabine ten", she explained after checking.

"OK", Dexter agreed. "We'll take those."

Clerk nodded and handled them the tickets. Dexter paid in cash. They walked in cabine ten and sat on their seats.

"Last row", Debra commented. "If I am on a date, it could actually be up side."

Dexter felt his face turning red, but he said nothing.

Movie was pretty good, but nothing special. Debra liked it; it relaxed her and helped her to get her mind off job and stress.

Dexter felt pretty interferent in regarding the movie, like he was with most of the things in his life. But he really liked the atmosphere. He always liked the atmosphere in movie theatres. Dark, silence, disguise; just sitting there.

He would sometimes look around during some boring parts of the movie. His eyes would sometimes drift on Debra's face lightened by small light source coming from movie screen. He felt some strange... attraction? It was something special in a way she was looking at the movie screen, seemingly without care in the world, maybe even... happy. That made him feel good, similar the way he felt after LaGuerta's case was closed. Her face was simetrical and covered with smooth, pale skin, which was also covering her long, now crossed legs...

Wait, did he just that he considers his own sister... attractive? He quickly looked away and glued his eyes on movie screen. He thought that Debra maybe noticed that, but he didn't want to look at her to check that theory.

Luckily, movie soonly ended and lights turned back on. They headed home.

#

Dexter parked his car in the garage and walked in on front doors while Debra staid sitting in the car. He paid for babysitting, apoliigized once more to babysitter for waking her up, and then she left. Debra saw her driving away through garage window, and soonly after, he walked in through back doors.

"Well, that was fun", she commented.

"Yes", Dexter said while walking out of Harrison's room and silently closing the doors behind.

They made their ways toward the room, positioned next to each other. When they were about to go to sleep, Debra stopped, turned toward Dexter and looked him in the eyes.

Dexter shivered and felt sweat running down his forehead, but he didn't look away; he simply couldn't.

"Dexter..."

"Yes?", he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Thank you. For... helping me out with LaGuerta... and... explaining me those stuff... after I... killed her", she said in low voice, gently biting her lower lip. "You... you really mean a lot to me. You are the only one who can understand me at this moment... only person with whom I can talk about anything. Thank You."

"Same here", Dexter nodded. "You're welcome."

They stood there in silence for few seconds, close enough to feel warmth of each other's breath; feeling that was sending shivers down both of their bodies...

But, of course, it didn't last for long.

"Well...", Debra said, trying to from a smile. "I guess... thank you for nice evening... and goodnight."

"You're welcome", Dexter nodded. "Goodnight."

Debra nodded and headed in her room.

She was tired, but she actually felt incredibly... good. The way she didn't feel in a very long time, till now. Who would thought that little bit of hanging out with her brother will have such an effect.

Dexter slowly walked in his room, claims the doors behind. He took of most of his clothes, remaining only in T-shirt and underwear, lay in his bed and pulled bed sheet over himself.

He was too tired to think about what happened tonight right now. He only managed to concluded one thing: nothing is ever simple in his life.

**A/N: Going to see a movie together. How classy :)**

**I know that Dexter wasn't all Dexter-like in this chapter, but there will be one murder commited by him in next chapter-usual as always, bad guy, plastic, knife... both not Patrick, not so fast...**


	6. Chapter 6

Despite living with those urges his whole life, Dexter still wasn't sure how, when and why his urge to kill shows up again after being unactive for days, weeks, or even months. He, however, knew that it doesn't happen out of blue, in monent, just like that. It happens slowly, usually in period of couple of days.

He felt first signs day after he saw that movie with Debra. Nothing serious atfirsrzt. He was thinking about that, blood and killing more often and intense than usual; started remembering his previous "projects"; his senses becoming more intense, etc. Then it started getting more and more intense till, about five days after seeing that movie, while having breakfast, he decided: he needs to kill someone.

His job wasn't helping him either. Everybody were busy with investigating serial killers case, bit he didn't have much to do, not enough to keep him distracted; there was no many murders, even less bloody ones he is assigned for. If it wasn't for Harrison and now regular post-job chats with Debra, it would, without a doubt, escalate even sooner.

He started preparing himself for that very day. After lunch break, he started studyng cold case files, and he continued doing so whenever he had time. It took him two days, but he managed to found his next victim.

On 1st June 2010, thirty year old Richard Blake drove in Miami City Hospital in his car. He was wounded in right arm. He said that he and his younger sister, twenty eight year old Natalie, were walking down the beach two miles away when masked man approached them, pointed the gun and them and asked for the money. Natalie tried to took out wallet from right pocket of her shorts but she accidently took out her cellphone. Man shoot her once in right wrist and once in head, then shoot him in the arm. He apparently ran out of bullets so he ran away. Richard ran after him but man hopped in black SUV and drove away. Richard then hopped in his car and drove to hospital. Police found Natalie on the beach, dead due to severe injuries caused by gunshot wounds. Three types of usable shoe prints leading toward the beach and awaywere found: one type matched to sandals which Natalie was wearing, other matched to sneakers Richard was wearing, and third was unidentifeid. Richard's shoe prints were followed by traces of his blood. Police found .38 calibar Smith&Wesson gun in glove compartment of Richard's car. He claimed he ove it for self-defense, but decided not to carry it with him during walk. Type of gun and calibar matched wearin used to shoot Natalie. Chemical component of bullets found in gun matched to bullets found in Natalie's body. Four bullets were missing from the gun. Balistic experts confirmed that gun recently fired. However, marks on bullets found in Natalie's body didn't match to Richard's gun, and since his gun was revolver, there was no shell casings on the crime scene. However, on screwdriver found in glove compartment, forensics found traces of gun oil and gunshot residue that matched to Richard's gun, that he may use it to change marks on gun barrel. Only his fingerprints were on screwdriver and gun, DNA found on gun also matched to him, and grey fiber found on the gun matched to grey shorts he was wearing, and traces of gun oil (that matched to Richard's gun) were found inside it's right pocket; pointing on conclusion that he had gun hidden in his shorts. There was no gunshot residue on his hands or face, but forensics found towel in trash can near place where Richard car was parked. Gunshot residue was found on it. Prosecution claimed Richard used it to wipe away traces of gunshot residue from his hands and face, but DNA testing of biological samples found on towel prooved inconclusive since towel was found in pile of trash. Also, third type of usable shoe prints found on the beach wasn't linked with neither Richard or Natalie (although prosecution claimed they could simply be left by another pass-byer who was walking down the beach prior to the murder. He had gambling problems and had five hundred thousand dolars insurance policy on her. Forensics who examined his computer found out that he was doing researches about gunshot wounds, blood lost and balistics only week prior to the murder, but hard-drive and it's copy burned in accidental fire in evidence room day after. He was never charged for Natalie's murder and case remained unsolved.

Dexter wrote down Richard's last known adress in his notebook just as lunch break officialy ended. He quickly got back on work. Soonly after, Debra informed him that they need him at Maple Street 45. Crime: homicide.

Murder happened in two store house near coast, in living room. Victim was lying face up on the floor, dead, in pool of blood. Old man wearing white shirt, black pants and black shoes, his body covered with bruises, his face bashed almost beyond recognition. Few bloody blunt objects on the floor. Whole room a mess.

"Neil Davis, seventy two", Debra explained. "Retired school teacher. Lived her for forty years. Neighbours heard noise and screams at one pm and called the police. They found... this."

Dexter nodded, moved closer to body and started studying it and blood splatters, and putting forensic tags here and there and photographing body and blood splatters from various corners. He found it quite hard to concentrate now when his murdeous urges started growing-shivers were going down his body, his heart was beating fast and his throat was dry-but he managed to keep his cool, as always.

"Judging by the blood splatters, it seems he was hit multiple times with blunt objects", Dexter concluded. "Possibly those left around. Multiple weapons, bloody shoe prints of different sizes all around, bloody fingerprints and palm prints... there were more than one killer. Pretty messy murder. Maybe victim interupted burgulary or something."

"If that is so, it won't be hard to catch them", Debra said.

"Fly screen on back side of the house was pulled out it's frame", Batista explained. "Fresh shoe prints in the ground under it. They probably came in through it. Few things are missing. Some cash, jewerly, few credit cards, DVD... Apparently, enough for 1st degree murder."

"I would say that two persons were hitting him", Dexter concluded. "One about 5'9-5'11 tall, other about 5'4-5'5 tall. I can't tell for sure were they right handed, left handed or combination or two... I will be able to tell more after I look into this further in the lab."

#

Although Debra now knew all about his "hoby", Dexter still felt pretty uncomfortable about idea of her knowing that he is doing it and when. So, that day, after work and his usual post-job talk with Debra, he got ready to leave and came up with excuse.

"Debra, can you look after Harrison, please? I need to go to mechanic because of my car", he said, trying to sound convincing. "I'll be back in few hours."

She gave him suspicious look, but after few seconds she simply said:

"OK."

Dexter nodded and ran toward his car.

#

He was satisfeid when he saw that Richard is still living in his old house. For two hours he was sitting in his car, paroled next to Richard's house, watching him.

He learned that Brian comes home after work at six pm and does nothing pretty much whole day. He is living with his girlfriend, but he is sure that won't be the problem.

Guy obviously has no remorse, no remorse what so ever. Hypocritical to conclude, but still...

Parking lot where he parks his car is four feet away from his house. Enough of a distance for safe abduction.

Then he drove to a beach were Natalie was murdered, and was satisfeid to found abonded beach house half mile away.

Dexter arrived back home close to eight pm. He found Debra sitting on couch in living room, watching TV.

"Hi", he said, trying not to make an eye contact.

"Hi", Debra responded, her eyes still focused on TV.

Dexter used the toilet, then walked in living room and sat on couch, next to Debra.

"Harrison is asleep?", he asked.

"For about half an hour now."

Dexter nodded his head.

They were sitting like that in silence for almost a minute, until Debra asked:

"So... you found out all you need about your next... project?"

Dexter frowned upon hearing that. He quickly started thinking what should he say next, but he couldn't come up with anything smart or convincing. Finally, he tried to say something.

"Debra..."

"Really Dexter", Debra cuted him off, "you don't need to lie to me. I already know everything. Just... leave when you get that... urge."

"Sure", Dexter said under his breath, still unsure about should he admit what was he really doing. She sounded fine with it, but he felt that maybe she is still having problems accepting that, but she doesn't want to show it.

"What are you watching?", Dexter asked after short silence, in order to change the subject.

"Show about planting bonsai trees in trunk of your car."

Dexter glared at her.

"I know", she said. "And saddest thing is, it's the best thing on TV right now."

#

Patrick walked toward backyard of the suburban house, yellow rubber gloves over his hands. He looked around, hid black plastic trash bag behind dumpster on the street in front of it, and quickly ran away.

#

Next day, after work, Dexter could barely wait to finally get that over it. At about 4:30 pm, he told Debra to look after Harrison and quickly drove off, trying to avoid any awkward conversation. Now, his car is parked near Richard's parking spot, it's trunk doors are opened, trunk is covered with plastic from inside, and he is patiently hiding near by, waiting for him, with latex gloves over his hand, holding wire in his hands.

Finally, Richard parked his car, locked it, put key in right pocket of his pants, and started walking toward his house. As soon as he walked toward opened trunk of Dexter's car, Dexter sneaked up behind him and wrapped wire around his neck.

Richard tried to fight back, but he didn't stand a chance. He tried to scream, but pressure was too big. Afrer barely half a minute, he passed out. Dexter stuffs his body and wire in trunk of his car, closed it, locked it, hopped on drivers seat, put on the seat belt, turned on the car, and drove off.

Less than an hour later, Richard was lying on the table in that beach house, wrapped in plastic. Whole house was covered with protective plastic from inside. Framed photograph of his sister was on the small cupboard near by. Knife was also on it. Dexter was sitting on the chair near by, latex gloves over his hands, black over his clothes.

Finally, Richard started regaining concisnousess. Dexter grabbed the knife and walked toward him.

"Where... where am I?", Richard asked, looking around in desperate atempt to notice something that would help him to conclude where is he.

"I thought you would recognize this place", Dexter said, firmly. "It's just half mile away from place where you killed your sister.

Look on Richard's face made it all even more clear to Dexter. He smirked.

"W-ehat?", Richard asked, trying to sound innocent. "I... I didn't kill her... They..."

"They couldn't proove it. But we both now that you did. You ruled her here and shoot her death-your own sister-because of five hundred thousand dolars. You even shoot yourself in order to make it seem like mugging gone wrong."

"B-believe me... I regret because of that every day..."

"No, you don't. Did you ever visit her grave after funeral? You continued living in house where you used to live together. I bet you spend all of her life insurance money, didn't you?"

"N-not all. I still have something left. Maybe we could..."

Those were his last words, because Dexter stabbed him in the heart, killing him. Although he loved giving "lecture" to his victims before killing them, his urge to kill was stronger. And he didn't like all that pathetic rambling.

When he saw the blood, saw life disappearing from Richard's body, so clear he could almost feel it, he felt his urge reaching it's highest point, till it finally went away, leaving him satisfeid at least. So much work for such little release, but still, he couldn't resist it, as always.

He sat back to take a small rest before getting rid of the body and evidences.

Really, what makes people capable to kill their family members? Sure, he killed his brother, but in self defense. He also killed lots of other people, but nobody that close to him.

He would usualy eliminate people who found out that he is the serial killer, but not Debra. If he can'to feel emotions, why did he care-and cares-so much about her. Could he feel emotions if he tries really hard or he simply can feel something like that toward... special, worth people in his life?

Although he works with blood and murder cases for years, he commited lots of murders and just killed another person, thought that in some situation he could actually kill Debra caused him to feel large... discomfort.

Probably first time in his life that he felt uncomfortable about possibility of commiting murder. Weird. Like he only wants to think about her in good way. Weird.

He shook his head and decided not to think about that. He took a chainsaw and got on work.

**A/N: I wrote that Dexter's point of viwe about murders at the end to show, in Dexter-like way, that Dexter cares about Debra and all. Then I realized some of you may think he is going to kill her. Don't worry, that is not going to happen.**

**Murder Richard commited is partially inspired by real-life story, but it is fictional.**

**I know, I know... six chapters and over twelve thousand words and still nothing happens... I know that it is good to keep it slow sometimes, especially when it comes to such complicated and forbidden relationship, but I know you are probably very annoyed by now... but something important will happen soon... and there will be more Patrick... but you have to wait longer for Debster smut, sorry:(**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Warning. This is, in my opinion, first chapter that shows why is this story M rated. There will be some sexual themes (but I repeat-no smut soon) and some cursing, but more detailed M stuff is kinda graphic description of murder. Just a fair warning.**

Next morning, Dexter woke up little earlier than usual. Strange enough, that would usually happen night after he would kill someone-sometimes even for next few nights afterward.

Even strangest thing was that he couldn't remember what was he dreaming-if he would dream something at all. Weird.

Thinking that Debra is still asleep, he decided to use the bathroom. He walked toward the bathroom and noticed that bathroom doors are partially opened. He looked inside, but since he just woke up, his eye sight was still a little blurry and he couldn't see anything clearly. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.

He widened his eyes in shock. Debra was standing there,completely naked, wiping her body with white towel. She just finished wiping her breasts, and her nipples were already erected. He was pleasantly shocked by what he saw. Debra's breasts weren't especially big but they were nicely shaped, covered with smooth skin (she was obviously freshly shaved), and fit the rest of her body. Her skin was very smooth, and, as far as he could see, flawless. Her legs were long and simply looked... perfect, just like her whole body, actually. Her wet brown hair was falling down her breasts and shoulders. She just finished wiping her stomach and thighs and started wiping her legs, bending down...

Realizing that she could see him, and, even worse, that he is basicly spying on his sister, he sneaked back in his room, closing the doors behind, pressing his back against the door, breathing heavily.

What just happened? Did he actually get aroused upon seeing his sister, his own sister naked?

He tried to convince himself that isn't the case, that it was maybe morning erection that he accidently experienced in that moment, or that it was because he didn't see naked woman in such a long time, but that... image simply couldn't get out his head.

And worst part was that, for him... it didn't feel like a bad thing.

"Dex, are you coming?"

He frowned upon hearing Debra's voice in hallway, jumping in place.

"What?", he asked, trying to control upcoming shivers in his voice. "How d-do you think, am I...?"

"I thought I heard you. You woke up earlier too? Are you coming in the bathroom? It's free now."

"Oh... that. Uhm... I'll be there in a minute!"

"OK."

He looked at his underwear. His hard on was still clearly visible.

_What to do now? I don't have time too... think... think about... blood and violence and... no, that isn't working. Of course. Try... try imagining Masuka naked. OK. Problem gone._

_Although tonight I will probably have my first nightmare after very long time. _

He walked out of his room, closing the doors behind, and headed toward the bathroom.

"Something is wrong with bathroom doors", he heard Debra talking from the kitchen. "I couldn't close them properly. You should fix that."

"Yes", Dexter said while walking in the bathroom. "I will."

"I will make myself a breakfast."

"No, I will eat later. I... I really don't have apetite right now."

#

Patrick parked his car on desert parking lot half miile away from Jon Wilson's house. He walked out of car, closing the doors behind, holding black plastic trash bag in his right hand. He already had yellow rubber gloves over hands, white plastic shoe covers over shoe bottoms, red baseball cap on top of his head and black sunglasses. After locking car doors, putting key in right pocket of his pants, and started walking toward Jon's house, looking over his shoulder from time to time. It took him five minutes to get to Jon's house. He approached to it from back side. He looked around and saw that air is clean. He looked inside the bushes and saw that bag is still there. Than he got on work.

He already detaly studied house day before, so he knew exactly how to breake in. He climbed over short hedge, slowly and carefully, as silent as possible, managing to hold bag in his hand, and walked toward back doors. Those were glass doors, and they lead in large living room, with leather couch, coffee table, large book case and big TV. Patrick looked inside. Nobody in the living room. He looked around, then pressed door knob. Doors were unlocked, like yesterday. He closed the doors behind and started walking toward office near living room, till he heard Jon talking on the phone. He stopped, silently put his bag on the floor, stepped two steps in the left, and pressed his back against the wall, listening to Jon in his private ordination.

"I understand this is hard for you, Mr. Logan, but I really need to cancel our today's session. I'm sure you'll do fine. You made lots of progress lately, don't forget that."

Feeling that Jon is about to finish the conversation, Patrick silently opened bag and took out a hammer...

"OK. I'm sure you'll make it. Bye."

As soon as Jon walked in the living room, Patrick wacked him with hammer in the mouth, to prevent him from screaming. Jon let out muffled, painfull scream and colapsed on the floor. Several of his teeth were knocked out his mouth. Patrick heart was beating faster than ever and he was feeling shivers all over his body, like every time, but he tried not to over-think this and simply do it. He searched Jon's pockets, found set of keys and put it behind the cupboard few feet away. He also found cellphone, threw it on the floor and smashed it with hammer.

He raised hammer again and punched Jon in a throat. This time, he started getting satisfaction he wanted. Then he punched him in right shoulder, then twice in right thigh, then in groin-three times. Jon tried to scream, but he couldn't-he could barely breath, actually-and he was already too weak to defend himself. That only p gave Patrick extra satisfaction. He lay hammer on the floor, silently, then took a knife from bag and started stabbing Jon, all over. He wasn't thinking-he just started stabbing him till his arm felt tired and till that feeling stopped. He couldn't describe that feeling exactly, but best way to describe it would probably be "mental orgasm". And then... extreme release... peace...

However, he still felt uncomfortable, even shocked, after the crime, when he would see what he did. He wasn't paying attention on that during murders-like he was in some sort of trans-but, even after so many murders, he was still shocked; he couldn't even believe that he did that! So he did his best not to look at Jon a lot.

He also doesn't see himself as a killer. Sure, he killed some people, but he feels that he doesn't have that inside... that what real killers have. But love can make you do lots of crazy things.

He silently put the knife down on the floor, looked around, took Melany's necklace from the bag and put it around Jon's-now butchered-neck. He took off his gloves, dumped them his bag, took out pair of clean ones from right pocket of his jeans, wrapped in bag which he dumped on same place as bloody gloves, and put new gloves on. He then took pair of clean shoe covers, wrapped in plastic bag, from left pocket of his jeans, unwrapped them, put that bag in biggle bag, took off old shoe covers, dumped them in his bag and put on new ones, extremely carefull not to touch the floor with bare shoe bottoms or leaving traces of blood on his gloves, puttin new one on immediately after taking off and threwing away old one. He picked up set of keys and ran in Jon's ordination. He put keys on the table, set clock on Jon's computer from 1 pm to 11 am, and searched documents on Jon's computer. When he found the one was looking for, he deleted it. He copy-pasted previous document over deleted one and saved changes. He set clock on right time again, picked up the keys and ran toward locker containing patient files. Quickly founding the key for lock on locker containing patient files. Once he found the file he was looking for, he put key on Jon's desk, dumped file in his bag, walked back in ordination, closed and locked the locker, walked back toward the body and put set of keys back in right pocket of Jon's pants. He picked up the hammer and put it in the bag. Just as he picked up the knife...

"Dad, I need to ask you something...", he heard girl's voice and looked in front of himself. He saw teenage girl walking toward Jon's ordination, stopping in her tracks and widening her eyes in shock, too shocked to talk.

Patrick was looking at her in silence for few second, motionlessly, holding knife tight in his right hand, and then he started running toward her...

#

Debra walked into interrogation room A, closing the doors behind. Fingerprint and DNA evidences recovered in Neil Davis's house matched to three juvenile offenders: Johnny Glover, 16, Danny Darco, 17, and Steve Smith, 15. She decided to question them Boys were sitting at the table in the interrogation room, now wearing white bathrobe and white woolen slippers, due to their clothes and shoes being confiscated.

"Why are we here?", Danny asked as soon as Debra walked in the interrogation room, with file in her hands.

Debra turned on the camera, sat at the table, opposite to them, and put file on the table.

"You have right to remain silent. You have right to attorney. Everything you say can be used against you in the court of law. Do you understand me?"

Boys nodded. Debra continued.

"Yesterday, seventy two year old Neil Davis was found murdered in his home yesterday. We found your fingerprints all over the crime scene."

Boys remained silent, like they are shocked or at least confused.

"You were arrested before. I believe you know that, whenever you touch something, you leave your fingerprints and that fingerprints are distinctive for every person, right."

Finally, Jonny started talking.

"Well, maybe we robbed the place... but we didn't kill that guy!"

"Really?", Debra asked before opening the file and showing photograph of bloody fingerprints and palm prints found on the crime scene. "Because we also found your fingerprints and palm prints inside his blood. Some of it on murder weapons. And hairs found ripped in his hands and on his clothes. DNA analysis confirms, without a doubt, that all three of you left those hairs. You know what is DNA, right? Also distinctive for every person. Except when it comes to identical twins, but I advise you not even trying to use that as a defense. We didn't confiscated your clothes and shoes for no reason. Your sneakers matche to shoe prints found in the ground in victim's yard, under the window which you used to breake in. And they also match to latent shor prints found inside the house. And bloody shoe prints. Found both inside and outside. You washed your clothes, but our forensic experts still managed to found traces of blood all over it. It will take them day or two to complete DNA analysis, but I believe we all know thait it will prove that blood belongs to Neil, right?"

Boys were silent for almost a whole minute, exchanging frightened looks, panick evident in their eyes. Debra smirked.

"It didn't suppose to end up like that!", Steve finally said.

"Shut up!", Danny screamed.

"You shit up! You're the one who killed him!"

"But you were holding him down!", Johnny said.

"You did too! You even hit him few times! With that fire poker taken from fireplace in kitchen! And that fruit bowl from the coffee table! And lamp torch!"

"And you hid stuff we stoke in that abandoned garage near your house!"

"You all shut up!", Danny screamed, now desperately.

Debra smirked, and simply walked out of the interrogation room, leaving the camera on and closing the doors behind, while Quinn was talking on his cellphone.

"Great job, Debra."

"Thanks."

Quinn just finished his phone conversation.

"Bad news", he said. "Two more bodies."

"Fuck", Debra said. "What's his problem."

#

Dexter was sitting at desk in his office. He had no other work to do, so he started studying all case files involving latest serial of killings in Miami. Maybe this time he will notice something, something that will help him catch the killer and... take care of him.

After an hour and a half of detail examination, he came up with nothing. Judging by bloody glove prints, killer could use ten different types of gloves and shoe covers, all of them very common, too common to be usefull lead. None of the witnesses could provide detail description. Modus operandi didn't match to any registered sex offenders or killers living close to the victims.

There are few usefull leads: killer is right handed, about 5'10 tall, and wears shoes number ten. But lots of men match that description. And some women too. He detaly studied photograph of that bloody shoe print found on scene of the first murder, but didn't found anything that could help him determe type of the shoe.

None of the victims had lots od enemies, and most of them had alibies. Alysha Brando's ex-boyfriend, Neil Davidson, is good suspect, but police simply can't track him down. He isn't using his credit cards or his cellphone, all attempts to track down his cellphone or GPS signal failed, and nobody reported seeing him or his car. Also, why would he kill other girls?

At that moment, Debra walked into his office.

"Dexter, we need to go", she said. "Row Street 10."

"OK", he said, stood up and walked out his office with her. "What happened?"

"Bastard killed again. Twice."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:I know, I know, late update... It's just that I have lots of schoolwork and everything, and I kinda got the writer's block on this one. But I managed to keep it going. Here it is!**

Dexter was sitting on a passenger seat while Debra was driving the car. They were heading toward a crime scene.

Debra wasn't driving too fast but something seemed wrong. The way she had her hands pressed against the steering wheel, so hard like she will rip a leather of it.T he way she was looking through a front car window. She was angry. Very angry. Maybe not even so angry than frustrated.

Although he still couldn't understand all that feeling thing, he understood why. This was fifth and sixth murder so far, and there was no evidences, no witnesses, no leads. More innocent people are dying, killer could strike anytime, and press are already all over the case.

Suddenly, he felt one of the rare feelings he was able to feel and process: responsibility. If he managed to find a guy and "take care of him", life will be much more easier for all of them. But even he had to admit: this guy was good. He left behind no evidences. He didn't even try to contact tge police or victim's families and friends. And, although he was often killing in broad daylight, he never left any witnesses who could provide any detail description. And if he done that kind of stuff before, he changed his M.O., because it didn't match to any M.O.s of convicted violent criminals in the closer area or to any unsolved cases. It was like guy was a ghost.

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying not to look at Debra, making everything in his power not to experience feeling that he experienced that morning. It was wrong, and sick, even by his standards-but again, why did it feel so good barely seven hours ago?

Debra briefly glared at her brother. He was sitting there, expressionless look on his face, looking through the window on passenger side doors. Who knows what is he thinking right now. Maybe he is thinking about what will he have for lunch, or maybe he's trying to figure it out how to track down this killer before the police does, kill him, dismember his body and dump it in the ocean. Sometimes she washed to be like him. Not all the time, of course, but she wished she could "turn off" the emotions once in a while, and be like him: calm, steady and professional. And, when she finishes her work, turn them back on.

She felt something, out if blue-at first she wasn't sure what was it, good or bad, but soon she realized. Immediately afterward, she shook her head, trying to clear her head. Did thought of her brother being sonehow... attractive... in physical way? She almost smiled in desperation. How can she have such crazy thoughts at such hard times? She sometimes things that she is crazier than... that she is crazy.

She decided to just drive and not to think about that. She was already stressed out and she knew that thinking about such ridicilous thing will only unnecessary stress her out more. Soon enough, they arrived at the crime scene. Again, it was ordinary suburban house, pretty nice actually, last place you would expect to found evidence of a violent crime. Debra pulled over, and car with Quinn, Batista, pathologist and Masuka inside pulled over behind them. Debra sighed, like she was preparing herself for battle with dozens of news reporters already in front of the house, and for whatever she may see when she comes inside.

"Let's do this", she said. Having no idea how to reply on that, Dexter nodded his head and they both walked put of the car, closibg the doors behind. They took latex gloves and plastic shoe covers from Dexter's forensic briefcase and put them on, then they headed toward the front doors, Dexter holding said briefcase in his right hand, followed by Quinn, Batista and Masuka, who were also wearing latex gloves over hands and plastic shoe covers over shoe bottoms.

It didn't take long for them to get toward the front doors, but it wasn't easy, either. It was enough time for every reporter to ask five different questions-in the same time. Dexter, being Dexter, found that annoying and distracting, but didn't give it much thought. Debra, Quinn, Batista and Masuka all had their ways of ignoring them, perfected over the years. Debra was repeating, over and over in her head, what she needs to do next, what will she say to reporters after they finish processing the crime scene and interrogating the neighbours, what will she have for dinner tonight etc. Quinn was reminding himself that he exerienced even worse things than that, Batista was doing pretty much the same thing as Debra, while Masuka was counting all Asian porns he ever watched (which he knew wasn't the best thing to do while standing straight and walking, but for him, there was no other way).

They walked in the house, Masuka being the last one and the one closibg the doors behind. They did that as fast as possible, not alouding news reporters to even sneak a peek inside, even less snap a photograph.

Although two dead bodies were on the floor, uncovered, in plain sight, first thing they noticed was young male patrole officer standing near a couch in living room near by, and woman sitting at the couch. Her eyes were wide opened and redish, she was shaking, hold wet wipe in her hand. She didn't cry, her face was experssionless: like her mind went totally blank. Even Dexter shivered when he saw her-although he felt nothing more than that.

Police officer noticed them and walked toward them, trying not to step in any blood.

"Victim one is Jon Prentiss, forty five, psychiatrist" he said, silently. "He ran a private ordination here, at his home. Victim two is his daughter, fifteen year old Rebecca. His wife, Julia, forty two, found them when she came home from work. She... she is not in best condition right now. She isn't talking much, but it seem" that whoever did this was already long gone when Julia arrived."

They all walked toward the Jon's body and looked at it.

"He has necklace around his neck", Debra said. "It looks like Melany's."

Pathologist lay on his knees, next to the body.

"Multiple fractures on the skull, leg and arm area, most likely caused by some sort of blunt object, and multiple stabbing wounds, caused by sharp object, most likely knife", he deducted. "I would say that he was killed between two and four hours ago."

When he moved toward Rebecca's body, Dexter started studying blood splatters-making them, measuring them, photographing them, making swabs. Soon enough, he came to conclusion.

"Most likely right handed, between 5'9 and 5'11 tall, standing up straight while killing him, like in previous cases... By amount of blood and strength used in murder, I think he was intended target."

Quinn, Batista and Debra glared at him in surprise.

"Well, it makes sense", Batista finally said. "He really... took his time whike killing he put the necklace around his neck."

"But all other victims were women", Quinn noted. "Why would he kill middle aged man?"

"He doesn't have to have a reason", Debra said. "Guy is crazy."

"Crazy guy who manages to leave behind no evidences or witnesses", Quinn couldn't help but notice. Debra gave him a look, but said nothing. Dexter simply started studying blood splatters around girl's body without engaging in discussion.

"Victim number two... few stabbing wounds around the stomach and chest area... He only killed her to eliminate her as a witness. She caught him in the act."

"Well, he is psychiatrist", Quinn said. "Maybe it's one of his patients."

"Unfortunatelly, we can't access the files", Batista said.

"Wait", Debra said. "You are telling me that this guy had bunch of informations about possible suspects, something that could help us clear this case, and we can't access it? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"That's the rule", Quinn calmly stared.

"Six people are already dead. This could save human lives. It's not like we are going to publish what we found out about innocent people who were his patients or that press will get hold of it!"

Hearing the footsteps behind them, they stopped argument and turned around, seeing Masuka standing there. After some awkward silence, he coughed a little and started talking.

"I found about ten usable fingerprints and few partial palm prints on both door knobs on front doors and one palm print and two fingerprints on front doors itself", he explained. "I vacumed door mat for trace and I also found seven types of usable latent shoe prints leaving from front doors. I'll need to take elimination samples from both victims, wife and patrole officer."

"OK, you take them after you finish, and powder file locker for fingerprints", Quinn agreed, then continued talking with Debra. "I'n sorry, but we can't access those files. We will interrogate neighbours, family members and family friends, forensics will try to colect and analyse as much as evidences possible, we will come up with something."

Knowing that there is no point arguing, and that it is not smart to get in a fight with police captain, Debra just took a deep breath and walked in ordination, passing near Dexter without even glaring at him. He stopped doing his work for few moments, looking after her. He felt something strange: like discomfort, but not a bad one. Maybe... a concern?

Sure, he is... unpleased because he can't track down the guy and "take care of him". And he understands that she, as person with emotions, can feel feelings which she feels at this moment. But that's it. Maybe even close to compassionate, empathy, but not it.

"We can't go through the files", Debra commented while carefully searching through victim's desk, "but maybe we can found something that can lead us to a killer and in same time can legally be colected as evidence."

"I don't see any signs of anybody forcing open the file locker", Masuka said while powdering the said locker for fingerprints.

"That doesn't mean that one of the patients didn't do it", Debra replied, trying to hide frustration in her voice, still searching the desk before finishing.

"Nothing here", she said, dissapointed. She walked toward the trash can and looked in it, but found nothing more than few tissues and remains of some food.

"Fuck", she said under her breath and walked back into the living room. Batista walked toward her.

"Debra, we need to talk with the neighbours? Are you coming?"

"Yes", she replied. "I didn't found nothing usefull here anyway."

"We better walk out through the back doors", Batista said.

#

Michael was sitting in his car, driving back home.

She didn't suppose to die. She didn't _deserve_ to die. All other victims did, but she didn't. Now he actuually feels bad about killing her. Her heart is beating fast, he feeld pressure in lower part of his stomach.x Damn it! But he will make up for it eventually. He needs to keep going. It's what Vanessa would want.

#

When Dexter and Debra finally arrives home, it was close to seven pm-little later than usual. This time Dexter was driving. Debra didn't say a word during ride home, and she went to use a toilet as soon as she walked in. She didn't go out till almost half an hour later.

"Sixth murder was pretty sloppy",Dexter said in his usual cold, professional tone, trying to break the ice. "Forensics found skin under victim's fingernails. Masuka will perform DNA analysis. It may belong to her killer..."

"It doesn't", Debra cut him off. "And even if it does, it won't be enough to perform the testing, or something will happen during fucking testing and samples will be ruined completely without DNA profile even being made, or he won't be in the system."

She threw herself on couch in living room, staring blankly at the black TV screen, breathing heavily. Dexter glared at her in surprise. He knew that she was angry and frustrated and disappointed, but he didn't expect something like that.

"You know that w... you dealed with hard cases before. And you always catch them. This guy just has some luck right now, but he will screw up, eventually. He already did, when that girl confronted him. Just... don't be so upset about him. He is not worth it."

Debra swallowed hard, slowly opening her mouth, thinking of a reply. At first, she wanted to say something nasty about him trying to rationalize feelings and try to comfort her with his sociopathic crap, but second later she realized that what he said was anything but that. Actually... it was probably the most... human-like thing he ever said.

"Thank you, Dex", she said. "I can't believe I couldn't think of that myself."

"It's OK", he assured her. "I don't... can't feel, but I know how people that can feel, how that affects them. It's normal."

She nodded her head, feeling much better, but still almost shocked by what he said. She couldn't believe he could actually talk with her like other non-sociopathic persons. But she knew that she can't hope he will change, that his sociopathy will disappear. It was simply impossible, and hoping for that to happen would only hurt her more later.

Maybe he can't feel, but at least he is trying to understand how and why other people feel, and how it affects them.

But again, if he can't feel and she already knows who he is, why is he even trying?

_Shut up, Debra. He is not going to change. Stop hoping for something that won't happen. You don't need more disappointment in your life._

"But enough talking about that guy", Dexter said. "Would you like to watch TV? I hope program is not so bad today. We can order a pizza or Chinese food... we didn't have that in a while."

"Sure", she said, finally forming a small smile. "I would like that."

**A/N: There are rumors spreading on a and on Tumblr that SOPA (Stop Online Privacy act) is back and that it will take down fanfiction and YouTube if online petition against it doesn't get at least one hundred thousand signs till 21th September 2013 etc. That IS NOT true. Tumblr user pseudofolio detaily explained it on his Tumblr page. SOPA is not back, and even if it is, it won't affect fanfiction. You can read it on his Tumblr page, but I won't re-post it here, because I am (I admit) lazy.**

**So, I know that most of you are probably dying to read an actual Debster. Well, things will happen in next chapter, chapter nine, on the end of it, but even more will happen in chapter ten. When I say "things will happen" I am not talking about smut (sorry), I mean: Dexter and Debra will finally come clean with their feelings for each other.**

**Also, this story is my take on season eight, since I don't like the original one. And by so, it will focus on other characters more, especially Masuka. But don't worry, it will still be very Debster-centric.**


End file.
